


A Loving Little Brother

by Sharyrazade



Category: Tales of Series, Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Breast Fucking, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, Experimental Style, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, It's Mithos what did you really expect anyway?, Large Breasts, Missionary Position, Nipple Play, Older Woman/Younger Man, Playful Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Sibling Incest, Suspiciously Specific Denials ahoy!, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11327034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade
Summary: Depending upon whom one asks, Mithos Yggdrasill could be many things, hero or villain. However, one thing that is not in dispute at all is that he is an adoring, affectionate little brother who would never disrespect his beloved Martel.





	A Loving Little Brother

Mithos Yggdrasill could, whether rightfully or wrongly, be called many things: Hero, tyrant, savior, butcher, just to name a few. But the one thing that was never, ever, even for one second, in dispute, was his devotion to and love for his big sister Martel. Thus, he would _never_ , _ever_ show her any sort of disrespect whatsoever.

For example: Mithos would _never_ fantasize about his sister bathing him at night as when he was a young child, paying him gratuitous complements about how he's grown as her hand lingers just a little too long on the toned contours of his lithe frame, taking great care to lovingly caress them with the washcloth.

Neither would Mithos _ever_ misconstrue the lullaby Martel would sing for him afterwards, an ancient melody from Derris-Kharlan of a maiden serenading her courageous, conquering hero, her melodious, angelic voice putting a bit _too_ much emphasis upon the lyrics beckoning him to her side.

Mithos would also _never_ fantasize further about a night made sleepless by a noisy fight with Yuan from the inn's tavern, Martel returning to their room in a huff and drenched in the water her fiance had dowsed her with in anger, the sheer wet fabric of the nightgown hugging every luscious curve on her body, sitting herself down at his bedside while wondering what the hell she was going to do with that man.

Mithos would _never_ feign sleep simply to catch an amorous glimpse or two at the object of his desire as she joined him in the room's solitary bed, bidding her darling little brother  _"Good night, my sweet Mithos"_ in a low, throaty whisper far more befitting for a lover than her sweet, innocent younger brother.

Granted, while Mithos had in fact, unconsciously cuddled up to his sister on many a harsh, cold night, but he would _never, ever_ take notice of his sister's serene, ethereal beauty, her kind, angelic visage, or her perfect, heaving breasts as she feigned sleep and become slightly scandalized to find himself becoming harder and harder.

And absolutely _perish the thought_ that Mithos would get a thrill at his heart skipping a beat at Martel doing away with the pretense of feigning sleep as his sister "awakens," mildly surprised at first, but her piercing, emerald eyes shortly shine much like those of a lioness having cornered her prey.

_"Martel- I-I- It's not-"_

_"You naughty, naughty little boy."_ she teases affectionately in that same throaty whisper. _"I'm just touched you appreciate me so."  
_

_"So, y-you're not mad at me?"_

_"Of course not, my darling. In fact, I'd just love your help with a fun little 'game' of mine..."_

 

And _never_ would Mithos feign his ignorance of Martel's "game" as she finally kissed him, not the chaste kiss of an older sister bidding him goodnight, but the starving, amorous kiss of a secret lover intoxicated with his very being as she brings him upright, helping him to slide the nightshirt off so his focus may concentrate on her lips. Nor would he _ever_ recoil slightly in embarrassment at his sister's dainty, graceful hand sensually sliding down his frame before taking him in her hand, her smooth, immaculately-kept digits tightening around him, playfully, teasingly, even rhythmically stroking him off.

_"Ah, M-Martel!"_

_"Try not to be too noisy, little brother. Let us remember we both have someone in the next room over, hm?"_

And this playful warning, reminding him that he was not merely acting as a hero to humans and elves who would never appreciate him anyway, but for the woman who had raised him, who was his everything, would _never_ drive Mithos even closer to the edge, Martel scarcely getting the chance to even slip off her still slightly-damp nightgown before the boy takes her nipple in his mouth, kneading and biting sensually as if finally reunited with the place denied him at his mother's breast.

_"Ooh, Mithos! How forward of you! So you like my breasts, hm?"_

_"Of course I do! All of you...it's just so beautiful! I can't help myself!"_

_"I'll have to remember that..."_

Let us be absolutely transparent about one thing; at this woman, this goddess after whom he had spent countless nights shamefully longing, taking charge yet again and playfully shoving her dear brother onto his back, Mithos would absolutely _never_ _ever_ find himself harder than he had ever been in his life as he gazes downward, the heavenly sensation of Martel rhythmically massaging his shaft in between her cleavage, that lascivious smile at her brother's flushed pants and stifled moans only hinting at the burning, pent-up lust inside of her.

However, like any good brother, Mithos absolutely adored seeing his sister happy, seeing his sister enjoying herself, and this was no exception. Therefore, Martel rising to her feet, the shimmering moonlight against her statuesque figure making her beauty seem almost otherworldly, confidently, sensually taking gliding strides over to the side of the bed, would _absolutely never_ make him feel as if he were about to utterly explode, the buildup almost becoming torturous as she took him once more in her hand, tentatively stroking as she straddled him, slowly (too slowly!) lowered herself onto his shaft with a satisfied shudder, bucking her hips a few times with a satisfied shudder, as if to reorient herself.

And of course, Martel, his dear sister, the love of his life, riding him with all the reckless abandon of months of pent-up sexual frustration, having the time of her life, would _never possibly_ enervate the lad, let alone the utterly divine sensation of Martel clenching around him making him feel more loved and secure than he could have ever possibly imagined.

_"Haaah...Martel!"_

And this renewed sense of security, purpose, and sheer pleasure could _never ever ever_ drive Mithos to take back the initiative from the heretofore-dominant goddess, taking Martel in his arms before placing her on her back, every wild, undisciplined thrust accompanied by hungry, amorous kisses and bites to her breasts and clavicle.

_"Ahhh! Brother! Right there! Right there!"_

And when he finally came, none of the emotions a young man would have associated with such an act, shame, worry, fear, troubled him. No, whatever anyone would or could say or think, the absolute serenity and bliss of Martel's embrace and the warmth and kindness of her gaze were the only things on his mind and heart.

_"I-I- Martel- I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"_

_"You've nothing to apologize for, Mithos! That was just lovely."_

_"S-so you're not mad that, I- inside of you? What about Yuan?"_

_"What about him? He's too busy mooning over Kratos to notice! Besides, I just have so much I want to teach you..."_

 

Yes, Mithos would (supposedly) _never_ indulge in such a fantasy. Then again, the world would _never_ supposedly have enough mana to go around, such powers and longevity surpassing those of even the longest-lived elf was supposedly impossible, and half-elves like him could supposedly _never_ carve out a place in a world that cursed their existence. Yet, he'd accomplished all but the last flawlessly.

In the confines of a certain Sybak inn, gazing up at the moon, Mithos pondered this smugly as the woman who had just finished riding him as if her life depended on it gazed upon him worriedly, her normally-cruel, arrogant visage (appropriate to the cruelty and arrogance shown her over the years by humans) twisted into an expression of concern. "Lord Yggdrasill," Pronyma began contritely. "I beg your forgiveness. I was not thinking- it just escaped my lips."

The lad simply smirked, unbeknownst to his most devoted subordinate, the only figure in whom he'd placed even a (and just a sliver) sliver of trust since Kratos' betrayal. "No, it's fine." he assured. "I actually like when you call me that in the heat of the moment - Mithos."

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ......so, yeah. Stop looking at me like that, someone had to sooner or later!  
>  But really, let's not even pretend that this kind of thing isn't exactly what's going on in that adorable little head of his. You ever known any (biologically anyway) fourteen-year old boys, let alone spent a significant amount of time around one? 
> 
> So yeah, as far as smut is concerned, I apparently write hetero stuff too. Yeah, I was surprised as you were. Anyway, since Mithos is pretty clearly Martelsexual and Pronyma canonically wanted her some ~~Daddy Yggdrasill~~ Lord Yggdrasill, it's not really (to me) an unreasonable assumption that she's a replacement goldfish for Martel.


End file.
